Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

Fox

Four-and-a-half years ago

“I’m nervous.”

I rubbed Evie’s shoulders. “Of course you are. You wouldn’t be the athlete you are if you took success for granted.”

“What if I don’t qualify?”

“There’s no room for doubt right now. You gotta leave that shit on the table.”

I’d flown to Atlanta last night after my game to be here for Evie’s qualifier. We’d been pretty much inseparable the last six months, since the day I’d kicked her ass and won a date. Well, as inseparable as two professional athletes who spent twelve hours a day training could be. My team had already qualified, so Evie was carrying an added pressure. I had to fly back this afternoon, but I felt like she needed me here, especially since her mother was here, too. A not-too-successful former competitive ice skater herself, the woman was the mother of all controlling stage-mothers. She was also a raging alcoholic and religious zealot—a combination that wasn’t fun.

But speak of the devil.

Paula Dwyer marched over to the waiting area where Evie and I stood. I’d hoped she might oversleep this morning, after finding her in the bar three sheets to the wind when I arrived late last night. But no such luck.

“There you are. How’s the leg this morning? Did you use the massage gun like your trainer told you to do? You know I didn’t make the state competition years ago because I ignored my trainer’s advice. You’re twenty-five, a dinosaur in figure skating years. This is it for you. You screwed up all your other chances. It’s now or never so you—”

Who the hell tells their kid they screwed up right before the biggest competition of their life? I put my hand up, interrupting. “Paula.”

“What?”

“She’s trying to stay calm.”

Her mother frowned. “So now you’re the figure-skating expert, are you? What do you know about pressure? You qualified with a team.”

“Fox is right, Mom.” Evie sighed. “I don’t need to be reminded that this is my last chance.”

“I was only trying to give you a pep talk.” Paula dug into her purse and pulled out a flask. She twisted off the cap and took a long swig.

I kept my mouth shut and whispered to Evie, “Why don’t you put your earbuds in and get in the zone?”

She nodded. For the next fifteen minutes, I watched the big screen while Evie quietly stretched and listened to music. Her coach was busy inside with one of his other skaters—a woman I’d met a few times at Evie’s practices. My neck was a knot of tension as the woman took her place and started her routine. Everything seemed to be going great, until it wasn’t.

She fell. I hadn’t thought Evie was paying attention, but when I looked over, her eyes were glued to the screen. She swallowed. A few minutes later, Brian, her coach, emerged. He tamped down the look of disappointment on his face as he walked over to us.

“How you feeling, Evie?”

She plucked an earbud out. “Okay. Is it time?”

“Two more. But we should go inside and wait on deck.”

Evie blew out a deep breath and nodded, looking to me.

I smiled and put my hands on her shoulders. “You got this. No hesitations. Leave it all on the ice. Balls out. You hear me?”

She nodded.

Her mother shouldered between us. “The Lord blessed us with these talents. Let’s honor Him.”

Evie bowed her head as her mother said some prayer. I believed in God and had said my share of pre-competition supplications, but breathing in alcohol fumes from the woman reciting the words just didn’t sit right with me.

The next twenty minutes were torture as we waited. Thankfully, I managed to shake off Paula and sit by myself. When Evie opened the half door to skate onto the ice, I found myself tapping the bench next to me three times for luck.

The music started, sending my heart racing like someone had put paddles to my chest and fired up a shock. Evie’s routine had some early tricks, so there wasn’t even a chance to be lulled into a calm. My hands folded into fists, and my leg came off the seat each time she jumped. She was killing it so far, but her hardest trick was in the last pass. I held my breath as she got into position for the long trek across the ice. This was it. It was the playoffs, and the teams were tied up, with one shot on goal before the buzzer sounded.

Shoot and…

Evie flew up in the air and started to twist.

And twist.

And twist.

It looked like she had it, until she landed the tiniest bit off.

And crashed to the ground with a loud crack.

***

Two days later, I finally had twenty-four hours off.

I pulled to the curb in front of Paula Dwyer’s rented house and turned the car off. Evie still lived with her mother, mostly because she was rarely home. She’d been training since she was eight years old. If she wasn’t at the rink, she was traveling to one of the dozens of competitions she competed in to keep her national rank and squeak out a living—a living that supported both her and her mother.

Paula answered the door and threw her arms around my neck. “The Olympic athlete has arrived!”

I could smell the liquor on her breath at ten in the morning. But it wasn’t my place to lecture a grown-ass woman.

“Hey, Paula. How you doing?”

“Just peachy.” She stumbled back. “The gimp is in the kitchen.”

Gimp. I was certain that word would offend anyone, particularly your daughter who’d cracked her ankle and lost her shot at competition in the Olympics forever. Paula’s sympathy drained in real time with the bottle. I walked past her without responding and headed for the kitchen.

Evie was slumped over the table, still wearing the red, white, and blue sweatshirt I’d helped put on her after her coach carried her off the ice two days ago. Her casted foot was propped up on the chair next to her.

I gently jostled her shoulder. “Hey. You okay?”

Her head lifted. She squinted, and a crooked smile spread wide across her face. “I thought you couldn’t come until Saturday.”

“It is Saturday.”

“Oh.” Her brows furrowed like she wasn’t sure I was telling the truth. “What happened to Friday then?”

I picked up the empty glass next to her and sniffed. It stunk like her mother. “I’m guessing you drank it away.”

She shrugged and her head fell back to the table. “Whatever.”

I sighed and looked around the kitchen. The sink was piled high with dishes. There were two open pizza boxes on the counter, with a few day-old slices inside. And the garbage can was overflowing. I moved a Wendy’s bag crumpled on top and looked deeper. Underneath was an empty handle of Tito’s and a broken Jack Daniel’s bottle. There were also a few juice and soda cans, which I guessed from the looks of things, had been the mixers.

Evie was already snoring, so I scooped her up from the table and carried her to her bedroom. That was no better. There were half-empty cups and plates strewn about, and laundry all over. The suitcase she’d had at the competition hadn’t been opened yet.

I settled her into bed and took out the dirty dishes. I wasn’t judging. Lord knows I’d had my share of benders after a tough loss. Hell, I knew some guys in the league who did it after every game. I hated that she had pain to numb at all. Though I wasn’t sure what to do with myself while she slept it off. I straightened her room, did some laundry, and wound up cleaning the kitchen. The cabinets and refrigerator were nearly empty, so after a while I went to the supermarket. I could use the fresh air anyway.

When I returned, her mother was in the kitchen, but Evie was still knocked out. Paula sat at the table drinking while I put away the groceries I’d bought. When I was done, I took the seat across from her.

“She’s taking it hard, huh?”

Paula lit a cigarette and blew the smoke in my face. “Of course she is. She blew her future. What is she going to do now?”

I shook my head. “She’s twenty-five and healthy. Her ankle will heal. There’s plenty she can do.”

“Like what? Give ice skating lessons for minimum wage?”

“If that’s what she wants to do and it makes her happy.”

“How is she supposed to put food on our table doing that?”

Our. Evie had been this woman’s meal ticket for long enough.

I’d been kicking around asking Evie to move in with me. We’d only been seeing each other six months, but it wasn’t easy to find time to spend together when she lived in Chicago and I had forty-one road games a season. Plus, I thought it would do her good to be close to her father and his wife, rather than Paula.

“I’m going to ask Evie to come live in Laurel Lake with me.”

“That will only do her harm.”

“How so?”

“When you live life on a merry-go-round and it suddenly stops, you find a way to make it spin again.”

“What does that mean?”

“You’ll see. Me and my girl, we’re cut from the same cloth.”